Asylum
by khaleessiya
Summary: Noun: A place of retreat and security; an institution for the care of the destitute or sick, especially the insane. AU - Cyrus is dead, there is no plot involving the Red Queen or Jafar, just a girl in need of a rescue that initially comes too late. Or, how a time-traveling rabbit helps the Knave of Hearts give Alice a second chance at happiness in Storybrooke.
1. Chapter 1

_She needs you._

Three words that echo in Will's mind as he navigates the turns of the asylum. It's the sort of dark, desolate place that should only exist in nightmares, and in a way, he supposes that's exactly what this is. Alice's nightmare, one that's alive, breathing in the tattered souls of its occupants and exhaling out their sighs and screams. What he knows of places like this come from scattered bits of information he'd learned in Storybrooke, things he'd never known before but had been placed in his memories by the curse, the rest gleamed out of movies, some of them horror stories in which the ghosts of former patients came calling. The thought makes a shiver run down his spine.

"Get control of yourself," he mutters under his breath, because, really, he's not usually this unnerved by things.

Another turn takes Will down a long corridor that ends in a single door with 'Patient 112935' written on a piece of paper that's been slipped into a small metal frame. A glance down at his hand, at the 'left, left, right, right, left, 112935' tells him this is it. This is where he'll find Alice, and the closer he gets, the more his emotions fluctuate between excitement and nervousness. He hasn't seen her in nearly thirty years, not since Cyrus' death when she'd fled Wonderland and he'd made himself more enemies than he'd ever care to acknowledge as he tried to mask his pain, until following her lead, escaping to the Enchanted Forest.

The door locks from the outside, a latch that he simply has to undo to swing it open. Its hinges whine a protest he ignores, pulling it wide enough that he can see inside. Will isn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't this, wasn't Alice, lying on her back, one arm hanging off a stained mattress, fingertips barely touching the stone floor. Her body is half covered by a blanket that looks as if it hasn't been washed in ages, and she's wearing only her underclothes. Indecent by any means, and under any other circumstances, he'd appreciate the view. But not now, not with the way her hair is tangled, a vacant expression in her eyes when her face turns so she can look at him.

"Alice?" her name comes out of him a whisper that makes her chapped lips curve into a smile. But it's not her smile, not the Alice he knows, and there's no recognition in her eyes.

All his fears about this place have come true.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm working under the assumption that Alice fluctuates between states of denial and belief in wonderland in the time leading up to the lobotomy. Consider this a time she absolutely believed what she experienced was a figment of her imagination.

* * *

The White Rabbit looks as uncertain as a rabbit can possibly look and all Will wants to do is strangle him.

"What do you mean, you don't know if you can?" he demands, taking a step forward that is every bit as intimidating as it's intended to be.

"Well… I… that is to say," the rabbit finally manages to get out, "I haven't in a very long while."

"I don't care how bloody long it's been, all you have to do is try," Will snaps, letting every bit of frustration and anger seep into his words. "And you're coming with me this time."

"Of course, of course," the rabbit grabs his pocket watch, flips it open in a gesture Will has long come to recognize as one of nervousness. "As you wish, now stand back please."

Immediately Will obeys, taking several steps away, though he watches the rabbit carefully to make sure the mangy git doesn't try to disappear on him. He doesn't, instead concentrating on creating the portal Will has asked him to. One into the past, far enough that they can be certain the Alice waiting for him inside the walls of this asylum is still their Alice. An Alice that might be partially broken, but still remembers Wonderland, still remembers Will and the White Rabbit. Not the shell of her he'd found inside that cell.

The walls gradually become illuminated in brilliant blue light as the portal grows larger and larger. The rabbit turns to look at Will, gesturing toward the swirling light as if to say _after you. _Trusting he'll follow, Will doesn't need further encouragement and launches himself into the portal. The sudden sense of weightlessness makes him feel as unsettled as ever, the twist in his stomach increasing at having gone through it twice in such rapid succession. But it's worth it, so very worth it that Will ignores the feeling and focuses on the only thing that matters. _Alice._

No matter how many times he goes through the portal, Will has yet to find the best way to really come through. It's always positioned in just the right way for him to stumble through or fall, sometimes opening in the air so he drops like a stone to the ground, almost as if the rabbit purposefully does it. This time is no exception, and he nearly slams face first into the wall directly in front of him. Brilliant, bloody brilliant. His glare is made of daggers, but the rabbit doesn't seem to notice, busy as he is with his twitching nose in the air, ears perked as he listens.

"All clear," he finally says, popping his pocket watch out once more, just long enough to glance at the time before leading the way down the corridor. Like he's been here before, and some part of Will doesn't doubt that.

If he knew where Alice was, that she needed help, it stands to reason the rabbit had been keeping tabs on her.

They walk in silence, Will dreading every step, convincing himself they're still too late. A dozen different scenarios race through his head, each one worse than the last, and all of them ending with that same smile on Alice's face. He wishes they'd get there faster, debates pushing past the rabbit to set the pace himself but keeps the urge in check, only making an impatient sound every now and then, unable to stop. And when they finally reach the door marked _'Patient 11293' _Will finally does push past the rabbit.

This time, the hinges don't protest nearly as loudly, and there's the unmistakable sound of fabric rustling inside the cell. Will spots her feet first, bare and pressed firmly on the ground, a thin layer of grime and dirt covering them. She's still in her underclothes, but at least now she's wearing a corset. It puts some semblance of distance between his eyes and places they shouldn't be lingering, though they still do, just a little on the curve of her waist the corset makes all that more pronounced.

Will's eyes meet Alice's and he breathes a sigh of relief at the expression she wears. One of recognition. But also disbelief, uncertainty, a dozen other things that ultimately combine to form something akin to devastation. Her head shakes, once, twice, and she pulls her feet up onto the bed, tucking them under her as she turns away, pressing her body against the wall. "Go away," she whispers, "You're not real. Not real."

The rabbit makes a noise, the soft disapproving click of a tongue, bringing her attention to him. There are tears in her eyes, a sight that shatters Will's heart. All his time in Storybrooke, and he hadn't known she'd been so broken. '_What have they done to you?'_ he wants to ask, so badly. Glancing at the rabbit, Will weighs his options before stepping forward and kneeling beside the bed. When he touches her arm, she flinches, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Alice," he says, softly, like he might to a frightened child. "Alice, look at me. I'm real."

"You're not, you're not. Not real. Go away," her voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it with the same clarity he would have had she screamed it.

"Rabbit, open the portal," Will says, keeping the words as steady as he can. Alice's eyes open, darting toward him, and Will tells her, "It's alright. You're safe now."

The word no begins to form on her lips, then stops as her attention is captured by the opening portal on the wall behind him. He stands, extends a hand to her, hopes she'll take it of her own free will. She doesn't, and he has to take a deep breath as a way of talking himself into touching her when she so clearly didn't want him to only moments ago. The second his hand curves around her arm and tugs her toward her, as gently as he can, she screams and pulls away.

Whatever his faults, Will's always disliked anyone who touches a woman without her consent. Hate might be a more accurate term. Now, he has no choice but to pull her toward him, until her back is to his chest. His arm is across Alice's stomach, holding her in place as his free hand comes to cover her mouth at the same time he pleads, "Please, stop. You're safe," as he hauls her off the bed toward the waiting portal.

Even as he drags her through, when the force of them being brought through threatens to pull them apart, Will holds onto Alice. Even when they fall through, landing in a tangle of limbs on damp grass he assumes is somewhere in Storybrooke. She's no longer screaming, her body half covering his, and to his surprise she's clutching his jacket in both her hands like her life depends on it. It takes him a moment to register she's crying, tears on her cheeks as she says, _"You're not real."_

But Will is very much real, and he has no idea what to do.

* * *

'_Stop it Alice, stop,' _she tells herself, _'Wake up.' _

Because this has to be a dream. She's hallucinating, like all the times she's sworn she's seen the White Rabbit wandering the halls of the asylum, watching her, and it frightens her so much she can't help the sob that builds in her throat, tearing free of her as she buries her face in Will's shirt. _Will. _She can smell him, feel the warmth of him, and Alice wants so badly to believe he's real, that he came for her, like she'd vainly hoped so many times he would. _Not real._

Adrenaline, fear, whatever emotion she wants to call it, is making Alice shake, her body not obeying the way her mind is telling it to stop. She forces herself to let go of him, until she's rolling away and landing on grass bearing the wetness of rain or morning dew. Her eyes fly open. _Grass. _Blades of it slip through her fingers as she touches it, savoring the feel of something beneath her cheek that isn't the cold hardness of stone, or a lumpy mattress smelling of sweat and her own despair.

"Alice?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tells herself if she just ignores him he'll go away. As much as she likes being free of her cage, the way the air smells fresh, even the dampness she can feel soaking through her skirt, if this isn't real, she wants it to go away. There's no place for her in a world that only exists in her mind. So she counts in her head, _'One, go away. Two, you're not real. Three, wake up.' _A sigh of frustration comes from behind her.

"Alright then," he says. She can hear him moving, fights the urge to turn to look at him as he continues muttering, "Perfect. Just bloody perfect. Drops us in the middle of the park and leaves."

Alice breathes in deeply the scent of the grass, digging her fingers into the dirt beneath until she can feel it under her nails. It feels so real. '_So did Wonderland,'_ she chastises herself. Some days Alice swears she can still taste the mushroom on her tongue, smell the acridness of the Boiling Sea burning the inside of her nose. Some nights she wakes with a hollow feeling in her chest from how vividly she can recall the touch of Cyrus' mouth on hers, and she cries because she can't decide if she wants to forget or wants to cling to those memories until they consume her.

"Go away," she whispers, lifting her hand to touch the place near her heart where Cyrus' pendant once laid.

"Alice, look at me." Will is kneeling in front of her, staring down with a pleading expression on his face. She can see the uncertainty on his face moments before he grabs her hand, holding it firmly between both of his. "I'm real. See."

Will's hands are warm and rough against hers, heavy, an anchor that seems to be the only thing keeping her in place. Her body feels light, almost as if it could float away on the wind. Alice breathes again, deep, and lets his touch calm her. Because here he is as real as she is, a tangible thing she can hold onto, and if that isn't real, what is? Maybe she's truly gone mad, lost herself in her own mind, but she asks herself, _'Would it really be so bad? To be lost there with a friend?' _Someone she trusts, who is safe. _Safe. He'd told her she was safe._

"Come on, love," he says, and she breathes in his presence, taking strength from it.

There are a thousand things she should probably say. _Thank you. I missed you. How did you know? _"What took you so long?" is all that comes out. The smile that lights up his face in response hurts because she never thought she'd see it again. She'd been locked away, and he'd been gone, dead for all she knew, so very lost to her. Whether or not he's real, in that moment, Alice doesn't care.

She wants him to be, and that's enough for now.


End file.
